


Cultural Exchanges; Or, Holy Fuck Why Does English Have So Many Idioms?

by badgertastic



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Jaal stop being adorable for 5 minutes please, SAM is grand high poobah of intrusive thoughts, fun with language, oh god so much fluff and angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 02:23:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13090419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badgertastic/pseuds/badgertastic
Summary: Ryder asks for a lesson on the written form of Shelesh.  Adorable, adorable shenanigans ensue.





	Cultural Exchanges; Or, Holy Fuck Why Does English Have So Many Idioms?

**Author's Note:**

> May the Force keep me, for I am back on my bullshit again. 
> 
> Set somewhere between Havarl (Flesh and Blood) and Aya (Angaran Affection), probably a little closer to the latter.

Yes, this was much more preferable to her quarters - that large, pristine space of sleek lines and biologically-appropriate artificial lighting, everything neat and tidy and organized.  It was too big, too grandiose.  This tiny little closet, the “tech lab”, cluttered with coils of wire and parts and softly-beeping equipment, cramped and dim and smelling faintly of solvent despite the air cyclers was much more her “speed”.  Its current tenant made it all the more homey - all of Jaal’s bits and bobs, up to and including the ramshackle cot (that to her eye looked slightly like an inflatable dinghy) on which she lay, cuddled up against its owner.  Her head nestled in the crook of his arm and chest, his … Rofjinn, was it?, soft against her cheek.

“...darling?”

Speaking of.

Yvette Ryder blinked, tossing her head.  Focusing her eyes on the face above her, the Pathfinder’s heart fluttered.  Maybe one day this century she would be able to look up into those eyes without her heart feeling like it had taken a swan dive off of the Presidium.  Those luminous eyes, blue-grey on black like galaxies in miniature, made her breath catch every time.  “Sorry.  Spaced a little.”  For a moment the corners of Jaal’s mouth turned down, puzzling out what was surely an odd translation.  “My mind wandered off track.”

The angara grinned crookedly, Yvette’s heart doing another half-gainer.  SAM was gonna fink on her to Lexi at this rate.  “Has it wandered back yet?”

“Mmm.”

“Now see this shape, here?”  He pointed carefully to the glowing orange character on the datapad she held, resuming the private lesson she’d asked for on Shelesh.

“The one that looks like an Eiroch wearing a hat?”

“...it does, doesn’t it?  Well it means  _ anj _ .”

“Anchor.”

“Correct!”  Jaal rumbled, pleased with her as she poked another glyph on the screen, dragging it next to the one for anchor.

“And if you put Eiroch-hat with busted-up-allotment-shed in the big shaded circle with the line to the little empty circle pointing to the southwest, you get …” Yvette furrowed her brow, the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth as she worked it out.  The written version of Shelesh seemed to use a combination of Remnant glyphs and a bewildering array of circles.  “‘Anchored ones?’  No.  Not anchor … tie?  No.  Root, maybe, in context with the … hn.  ‘People of roots?’  ...  Hm.  Oh!  ‘Those with roots’?  It’s the word for Angara?”

“Correct again!  Brilliantly done, dearest.”

“Fantastic.  Now I’ve got approximately eighty-two-gojillion more characters and words to figure out and I might have the proficiency of a really dumb angaran child.”

Jaal looked confused again, at both the unfamiliar quantifier and her self-deprecating barb.  “I thought you did this for enjoyment?”

She laughed.  “I do, I’m just giving myself a hard time.  I work better that way, thinking someone’s going to take the piss out of me for failing - ah shit, another idiom.  But it helps me focus.  I used to do the same thing with the Prothean language back in the Milky Way.  Old school, you know?  … well I guess not.  But no Omni-Tool translation circuits, nothing.  Like ancient scholars - just a scratch pad and guesswork.”

He looked suitably impressed, which made her beam.  “I have no head for such things.  But it explains the look you wear when working with Remnant glyphs.”

“Look?  That’s not a look.  That’s my face.”

Jaal laughed, deep and rumbling enough to make her quiver.  “It’s rapture.  You look rapt, puzzling out their order.  It’s quite lovely, actually.  Completely caught up in solving the mystery.  A little line forms, here.”  Gently, he traced a fingertip between her dark brows, and the way her eyes crossed to focus on his finger made him laugh again.  She grinned impishly in response.  “You could teach me your human glyphs.  Then maybe some of the things I’m learning in the cultural center would make more sense.”

“I could, couldn’t I?  It’d be nice to have someone to feel dumb with.”  Yvette chuckled.  “And we call them ‘letters’, not glyphs.  So where do we start?”

“Like any proper conversation, I would think.  Introductions.  How do you form your name?  Eeee-vet.  Eeeeeeee-vet.”

“When you pronounce it like that it sounds almost angaran.  Wait ‘til you see this, it’s really gonna bake your noodle - goddammit idioms!”  Waiting for Jaal’s mirthful cackling to subside after her outburst, she sucked her back teeth, clearing the datapad’s screen with a swipe.  With a fingertip, she wrote her name.  Jaal’s dumbfounded look was satisfying.

“What is that?”

“The letter y.”

“Huy?  Huy is not ee.”

“Welcome to English.”

“And … all of this business here … these funny little people with arms outstretched.”

“T.”

“There are two of these tees.”

“Yup.”

“But … and this, at the end?”

“That’s the ‘e’ you’re looking for.”

“That’s a joke!  You’re joking with me, yes?  That is an ee?  But … your name is Eee-vet?  Not Eee-vet-ee!”

“Correct.  It’s silent.”

“And it’s still part of the word?”

“Yyyyup.”

Those gorgeous eyes blinked in utter confusion.  “How did your people come up with this system?  Did your children develop your language?  Why would these letters be part of a word if they’re not even used?!  It makes no sense!”

“No kidding.  Thankfully we’ve got the translation circuits.  I’ve seen salarians reduced to babbling hysteria when presented with some of humanity’s older texts.  Have you gotten to the elcor version of  _ Hamlet _ yet?  Pretty sure ol’ Bill Shakespeare would be pleased to know of the long line of extraplanetary academics he’s left broken in his wake.  Speaking of  … hey SAM?” Pausing to wait for the AI to acknowledge, she continued.  “Remind me to corner Scott when he wakes up.  He still hasn’t paid me for sitting through all 14 hours of it.”  Yvette paused for breath.  Jaal clearly understood very little of her diatribe, yet he was listening intently, even eagerly.  He was opening his mouth to respond when SAM spoke up.

“ _ Pathfinder, when next we dock with the Nexus, I will attempt to connect you with Scott’s implant _ .”

“Naaaaaaaaaah.  It’ll be way more fun to do it face to face, cuz it means he’s gonna have to sit through me sitting through the whole play to verify it.  Cuz of course I recorded it for providence.  Oh Scott, ‘how camest thou in such a pickle?’ - still ain’t learned to not dare your sister, that’s how.”

“ _ Understood, Pathfinder _ .”

Jaal was one big gentle, beatific smile when she returned her attention to him.  “You are a strange and delightful example of your species, Eee-vet-ee.”

“That’s a joke.  You’re joking with me at the expense of my species’ ridiculous language.  Clever.”

“I mean it, truly.”  He dipped his head to leave a quick peck on her forehead.  “Eee-vet-ee. Ha!”

“You can just call me Evey, you know.”  Well, that stopped his chuckling right in its tracks.

“What?”

“Evey.  Short for Yvette.  It’s what my mom and Scott call me.  The turian I worked with in the peacekeepers used to call me Vette, but Vetra and I are mistaken for one another enough as it is.”  She struggled to keep a straight face at Jaal’s bewildered stare, her lips twitching with the effort.  It didn’t last long as the angaran dipped his head, pelting her face with kisses until she couldn’t help but giggle.

Forgetting their linguistic adventure for the moment, Jaal buried his nose in her hair, breathing deeply as his chest rumbled his delight.  “Dearest one, this scent is utterly intoxicating.  What do you call it?”

Yvette paused, confused for a moment.  Normally it was the other way around: Jaal smelled like absolute heaven, and the little flush of self-satisfied pleasure he wore when told so was often the high point of her day.  “It’s a flower called lavender, from Earth.”  A frown creased her forehead.  When this shampoo was gone - would that be it?  No more lavender?  Someone might have an artificial scent profile stashed away in a databank somewhere, or seeds in cold storage somewhere on the Nexus.  Cora would know, but ...

Jaal was kissing the corners of her mouth, which she didn’t realize were turned down until just then.  The angaran seemed to read her mind - or more likely, the pained, distant expression on her face.  “There is a flower I must bring you.  On Havarl.  It smells similar to your lavender, I think.  Sweeter, perhaps.  One of my mothers would dry it for keeping blankets smelling fresh in storage.  I’m sure that I could … oh darling dear, what’s wrong?  Did I say something out of turn?”  Jaal’s voice trembled in distress, his eyes wide.  Ah shit, she was crying again, wasn’t she?  Another one of those little cracks had formed.  Funny how that went.  Habitat 7 and her father, the massacres in Promise and Resilience?  Not a tear had come.  The loss of lavender and Jaal’s ineffable sweetness though, and she was wrestling down a sob.  Face going red with shame, Yvette scrubbed away the trickle of tears with the heel of her hand.  There was a faint hum at the base of her skull, neurons and synapses that weren’t wholly her own firing.  SAM was thinking.  Processing, really, but ‘thinking’ suited the AI better.  

[ _ Pathfinder, perhaps speaking with Dr. T’Perro would make you feel better.  Properly managing grief and loss is integral to your health. _ ]

“No no, it’s fine,” she spoke aloud, to both the AI and Jaal. “nothing quite so humiliating as someone having to stop and constantly check to make sure my bricks are still up in a wall.”

One of Jaal’s massive hands enfolded hers, his fingertips nestled in her palm.  “Another of your idioms, sweetling, but the intent is clear.  I cannot fathom how … uprooted you must feel.”

Defiantly, Yvette squashed the loneliness and fear, cracking a forced smile as she canted her head, nuzzling against his chest until she composed herself.  “Way to bring it back ‘round to the lesson.”  Those huge, honest eyes would have sent her into a crying fit she was sure she wouldn’t have been able to stop, and that was too shameful a thought to tolerate.

SAM was having none of it.  [ _ Pathfinder, angara are free with their emotions.  Jaal would perhaps understand your feelings more than you know. _ ]

[ _ Who’s side are you on, anyway? _ ]

[ _ Please remember this is a symbiotic relationship.  I am on the ‘side’ of whatever enables you to remain alive, functional, and understanding.  My existence as a growing organism - along with all 21,458 souls aboard the Hyperion and the 75,249 aboard the Nexus and scattered outposts - depend on your wellbeing. _ ]

[ _ Well when you put it like that. _ ]

Yvette lifted her head from his chest.  She’d discovered that this Rofjinn of his was satiny in one direction, but in the other felt a little like velvet rubbed against the grain.  And while texturally fascinating, perhaps it wasn’t the best idea to smear any errant tears or snot on something that was of cultural importance to the angara.  “I’m sorry Jaal, it’s just …” she swallowed thickly.  Everything came out in a rush, almost as if the Pathfinder/peacekeeper part would stop the Yvette part from letting it.  “Sometimes it just hits me, you know?  I’m never gonna see the Milky Way again an’ Scott’s still in a coma an’ it feels like he’s never gonna wake up, everything I knew back home has changed anyway by now an’ there’s somethin’ henky going on with the Initiative but I can’t figure out what, the kett are, well, the fuckin’ kett, an’ I’m out here making this shit up as I go along and I hate bein’ scared...”

The datapad beeped in distress as it was mashed between them, Jaal scooping her up against his chest in a crushing embrace, his fingers smoothing through her hair as she clung to him like a burr.  “I understand, my precious one.”  Their foreheads touched in what Yvette was guessing was an angaran expression of affection, as it was similar to their embrace on Havarl, after they'd delivered his siblings home.  “And it makes my heart soar that you would trust these words, these feelings, to me.”  His own eyes were wet with empathetic tears.  “I swear on all the stars that I will help you carry this burden, if you will let me.”

Fresh tears welled.  Six hundred-odd years ago and an entire galaxy away, she would have groaned at the flowery prose.  Out of Jaal though, it didn’t seem forced or cheesy. Angaran was just ... that way, it seemed.  This was the first time she’d shared her fears with something that wasn’t buried in her skull and the sentiment was enough to make a lump rise in her throat.  The crew was the crew, after all.  They were all friends, but a distance had to be kept.  It was her responsibility to at least  _ pretend  _ to be confident, for morale’s sake.  Only Jaal had jumped the gap to meet Yvette Ryder, Certified Human Disaster.  Even Drack and Liam hadn’t worried their way into her shell, no matter how many drinks deep they got in at Kralla’s Song.  Worrisome, intrusive thoughts waned as she rested her forehead against his, lost in his eyes.  They were so soothing, even when his pupils were dilated and round, reducing the galaxies to a starry ring.  [ _ Dammit SAM, I hate it when you’re right. _ ]  

[ _ Begging your pardon, Pathfinder, but I will log this instance away as my first ‘I told you so’ moment. _ ]

Jaal’s heartfelt response had triggered an involuntary surge in his bioelectrics, so when he withdrew his hand from her hair, a dozen or so strands lifted, affixed to his palm.  Tickled with  the sight, he began to chuckle, which made her grin.  “Such a beautiful crown, this ...hair … you humans have.”  Chuckles blossomed into full-blown laughter as the more he tried to smooth it down, the more clung to him, until Yvette had to intervene.  A tiny shriek as the static jumped to her skin with a sharp crack made him laugh so hard he snorted, and that was that.  Unable to contain the ridiculousness, human and angara both clung to one another in shared hysterics, the kind of laughter at nothing in particular that served no other purpose but to feel good.  From panicked fear to innocent mirth… she was going to strip her gears changing direction so fast.  “Though, I have a question?”

“Mm?” was all she managed, composing herself as she swiped at her cheeks again with the cuff of her shirt, taking a deep, soothing breath as she combed her fingers through her hair.  Another sudden electrostatic jolt got a surprised “yee!” out of her, which almost started the laughter again.

“Yours is very bright.  Very very bright.”  It was an understatement on his part, the Pathfinder’s hair was a screaming shade of orange: more reddish at the roots, and fire-yellow at the tip that hung almost even with her jaw.  “I’ve noticed that most humans are … er.  Not so much?”

“Oh no no, this isn’t ...uh.  Natural.”  Yvette tucked a strand behind her ears, suddenly self-conscious.  “Nanite reprogrammers, injected here, here, and here.”  She touched the points on her hairline: forehead, behind her ears, the nape of her neck.   “Minor cosmetic procedure back home.  Alters the genetic structure of the root so it grows this color.  Had my eyes done, too.  Humans don’t come standard with this color purple.”

Jaal looked mildly horrified.  “Why in all the vastness of heaven for?!”  His rapid uptick in blinking explained it: the thought of injections in the eyes.

Yvette laughed.  “You’ve seen the other members of the Alliance on the Nexus, right?  Stand a human next to them and we’re boring.  No crazy exoskeletons like the turians, no badass shells and plates like the krogans, salarians come in all colors of the rainbow and then there’s  _ the entire asari species  _ over here being hotter than a dying sun.”  Jaal flushed at the mention, and it made Yvette snicker.  “Yeah, I know you like the asari.  Evvvverybody digs the asari.”  Unable to stop herself she traced a finger along one of the flutes and ridges of his skull, where indigo vents pulsed and glowed faintly.  “Even you guys are stunning.”  The room hummed with bioelectricity as he responded to the touch like a buzzy cat, his eyes even half-lidding.  “So much beauty … can you blame some of us for wanting to try and compete?”  

Jaal laughed, enfolding her in his arms.  “Dearest Eee-vee,” he paused to grin as she groaned an ‘oh Christ’ against his throat, “you could be as drab as a female kaerkyn out of season and you would still be radiant.”  He pulled his head back enough to see her staring up at him, face screwed up in an expression both confused and sarcastic by turns as she was working out just how much of a compliment it was.  “Kaerkyn, you know?  When it’s not time to mate the females are very brown.”

“Oh are they?”

“So brown.  You could step right on them.”  Overhanging brow ridges went level across his forehead.

“You’re speaking from experience.”

“I would prefer not to talk about it.”

“You screamed like a little girl.”

“Like a little girl with a limp being chased by an adhi.”  The delivery was deadpan, but the grin tugging at his mouth and the sparkle in his eyes said otherwise.  “Baranjj saw.  Wouldn’t let me live it down for a week … and then he stepped on one and soiled himself in terror.”

Yvette grinned a little, tucking her head under his chin.  “There’s more you’re not telling me.”

Jaal sighed dramatically.  “I started calling him  _ olarevshaanan _ .  Brother shit-pants, roughly.  Two of my mothers overheard me, and.  Er.  I was ... scolded quite thoroughly.”

“I can’t imagine what it’s like growing up with that many siblings.”

“Growing up?  This was two months ago.”

“You’re probably joking but … you know what?  I can see it.”  That made him laugh, before he wriggled, his bicep flexing under head.  “Oh, am I squashing … here, let me sit up.”  Jaal rolled to his back as she rested her elbows on her bent knees, angling her head to look back at him.

“Hand was falling asleep.”

“I should probably get back to it, anyway.  We’re bound for the Tafeno system once Gil and Kallo are done their preparations.  Can’t very well set off to find the Archon with the figurehead of the operation lazing about laughing and weeping with her boyfriend.”  She changed positions, bending to touch her forehead to his once more, delivering a quick peck on his nose. 

“Oh?  Can’t we?”

“Mmm, no.  Addison would have an entire litter of kittens at the thought of what it’d read like in the history books.”

Jaal traced a thumb over her cheekbone as they parted.  “...kittens?”

“Small.  Fluffy.  ...ask Vetra.”  She stood, collecting herself as Jaal got to his feet, clearly intending to do just that.  Once her clothing was tugged straight and her hair shoved behind her ears, Yvette leaned against him briefly.  “Duty calls.”

Jaal brushed his lips against her forehead.  “As it ever does.”  Reluctant to let her fingers slide from his hands, he gave them one parting squeeze.  “Remember what I said, dearest one.  If you ever need me, I’ll be here.”

“Of course.”  Managing to avoid a longing backwards glance, the Pathfinder exited the tech lab, door closing behind her with its customary soft hiss.  Liam was already back and in “go” mode, buzzing from console to console like some sort of hyperactive bee.

“Time to kick some shit in, Pathfinder?”  He didn’t even turn his head, instead extending a fist.  Yvette knocked knuckles with him without a second thought as she passed.

“You know it.”

Yvette cackled as Liam’s mock-outrage of “gimmick infringement!” followed her to the bridge.  Kallo swiveled his head as she approached.

“All systems go!”

“Awesome.”  Yet her attempt at a cool, collected walk to the helm controls was interrupted by a sudden outburst from Vetra over the comm.  She sounded irritated.

“Pathfinder, would you  _ please _ tell  _ your boyfriend  _ he can’t have a cat?”

“Why not?”  Jaal’s tone was perfectly petulant.

“We can’t keep a cat on the Tempest!”

Cora chimed in.  “It’ll get into everything!”

“So does Drack, but we still keep him arou-- ow, you fucker!”

“Drack, did you just punch Gil?”

"Sure did.”

“Please don’t.  At least until we take the Archon out.  I need somebody to keep this heap running.”

“Thanks Mum.”

“You’re welcome Mr. Brodie.  Can we get this shitshow on the road?”  At least Suvi was keeping a relatively straight face, using a very wobbly hum to keep from laughing, while Kallo was clearly preparing a diatribe in response to her ‘heap’ comment.  Pretending not to notice, her fingers slid over the nav display.  “Tafeno, here we come.  Kallo, take us out, please.”  Oh, the history books were going to have the best kind of field day with the tale of the Tempest.

“... so, darling ... is that still a no on the cat?”


End file.
